


An Experiment

by joycometh



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Oral Sex, Post-Series, ruining menstruation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 06:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joycometh/pseuds/joycometh
Summary: Spike and Buffy try an experiment with mixed results.





	An Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> If you are someone who is upset either by someone having a menstruation kink or by someone not having a menstruation kink, this probably isn't the fic for you. As Spike would say, cheers for stopping by!

_I can’t believe I’m doing this._

Buffy was naked in bed, usually a sensual experience all on its own, due to Spike’s preference for silk sheets. But today she was laid out on top of five scratchy towels they mostly used for demon gunk cleanup (freshly washed, of course). Every rough brush against her skin reminded her what she was about to allow.

Equally uncomfortably, she kept hearing Angel’s voice in her head, telling her that when Spike wanted something, he never gave up.

Truer, more annoying words were never spoken.

Spike had been begging her for it for years, slyly at first, with nudges and innuendoes. Then the begging had turned outright explicit.

“Please, Slayer,” he said, body lean and long against hers as they lay in bed. “Let me taste you. Lick you good until you scream. You know you love it when I do that. This can only be better. Solve those cramps right proper.”

Which of course made her warm and wet between the legs for two reasons.

“No, Spike,” she said shortly. “It’s gross and no.”

He’d gotten better about no, and if he grumbled a little as he flopped back to the bed to be satisfied with a movie and a cuddle, she couldn’t entirely blame him.

With her birth control, she only even got her period a couple times a year. But she knew the second he could smell it on her, his eyes bright and keen, and suddenly he was all Stupid Sexy Seduction Man, in the nearly soap operatic way he’d mostly calmed down from since they’d gotten back together.

“C’mon, love. You don’t even have to watch.”

“It’s not—look, I know you and blood and my blood and all that. But this is—still a big ol’ hell naw from me. For one, I don’t think I’d ever be able to kiss you again.”

Spike subsided post-haste... for a while.  

The problem, of course, is that Angel had been right. And so now here she was, mummified tampon in the trash, vampire kneeling between her legs.  

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” she breathed for the twentieth time that night.

“Yeah.” Spike’s own voice was breathy, his eyes glazed over, and she was beginning to think the towels might need to catch his drool as much as her own blood. And also _ew._ How the hell could Spike be all sexed up over this?

She tried to be non-judgy about kinks. It’s not like she didn’t have a few of her own. But— _eeeeeeeewwwww._

Spike lowered his head gently to her crotch, and she could hear him sniffing, taking in all her scent, and it was simultaneously the least and most sexy thing ever. But she was naked and Spike was between her legs, which were all the clues her body needed to get revved up, and she suddenly didn’t care how gross it might be. It was his mouth and it needed to go ahead and be on her. Now.

“Oh, love,” he sighed, raising his head to look her in the eyes, and if there was the slightest hint of victory amidst the adoration in his own, she ceded the point.

But even after the years, he started with her thighs, clean and comfortable. Her breath hitched as his soft lips and nibbling teeth worked their way towards her center.

Her heart was beating fast, excitement and shame and embarrassment and arousal all piled haphazardly on top of each other, everything ready to tumble over in a crash of pleasure.

Slowly, slowly, Spike finally lowered his head all the way, breathed a final breath that gusted against her sensitive lips, and dove in with one long, scooping stroke from clit to cleft.

She arched off the bed a little. It didn’t feel any different than usual, which was freaking _fantastic._

Caught in her ecstasy, she didn’t quite process the little gagging noise Spike made.

But instead of more sure, circling strokes, she felt the very tip of Spike’s tongue, flexed firm and taut, probe slightly at her left labia. Once more, a little harder, but still with as little tongue-to-pussy contact as possible.

Tentativeness was not part of the usual Spike sex package.

She worked herself up on her elbows, staring down at him. He looked— _scared_.

“Slayer,” he said quietly, “I—I think—are you feeling okay?”

“Bit abandoned down there,” she said lightly, “but otherwise fine. Why?”

“I think there might be something—something wrong. Maybe let’s get you in to see a doctor, right, pet?” He cocked his head, looking at her earnestly.

 _Oh God._ “Spike, do you see something? Is there a lump? A spot? What is it?”

He was silent for a moment, every nightmare she’d had since sophomore year of college choking her too.

“Just your—blood. Tastes—off. Not like—like other times.”

Something snapped in Buffy, and she collapsed onto her back, laughing maniacally. Her whole body shook with the force of her giggles, and Spike’s face fell from consternation to utter confusion.

“Buffy?”

“Oh my god,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “I have  _got_ to stop dating guys from the middle ages.”

Spike looked offended by that, but mostly as if by habit. “I’m not _that_ old, Slayer,” he mumbled.

“No,” Buffy laughed, a new wave of giggles cresting each time she looked at Spike.

Finally she composed herself. Spike was still crouched at the end of the bed.

 _“_ Spike _, do you understand how periods work?”_

The offended look intensified, but she knew him well enough to catch the start of discomfort. “Course I do, Slayer. A woman’s monthlies, bleeding, the moon, all that rot.”

_“The moon???”_

“Or… maybe that part’s just a figure of speech?”

Buffy took a deep breath. _He wouldn’t have learned about it as a human. He wouldn’t have learned about it with Drusilla. And it’s not like the ads on TV are that clear—maybe I should just be grateful he didn’t wig out the first time he saw it wasn’t blue._ She fixed her eyes determinedly on her beloved, clueless vampire.

“Spike, it’s not _fresh_ blood. It’s not like there’s a clean cut somewhere in there just pouring out nice and bright for any vampire I happen to let within licking distance. It’s—“ for a second Buffy blushed, which was truly ridiculous for the whole milieu of this conversation, but old taboos die hard—“it’s blood in the tissues that were attached to the wall of my uterus. You do know about the uterus, right?”

Spike nodded in such a way that she thought she better go look on Amazon for some of the sex ed books her mother had nervously given her as a teen.

“So, the reason women _menstruate—_ “ Buffy said the word firmly and without nonsense, because there was no other way to get through this—“is because that blood is old and unneeded. So it’s supposed to taste off. It’s basically spoiled after a month hanging out inside me, I guess.”

Buffy was actually less sure about the science of that last bit, but it sounded plausible.

Spike looked adorably confused and relieved at the same time. And maybe also a little crestfallen.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” Buffy laughed again. “I feel like I just told you Santa Claus isn’t real.”

Spike stared at her crotch for a while, seemingly trying to take in his new knowledge. Finally he shrugged and crawled up over her.

“Can still shag you though, right?”

This had also been a no from Buffy, but the towels were laid out and she was still, even through all that interlude, a little bit aroused, and well—there had to be some perks to loving a vampire.

“Sure,” she said smiling, then placed a hand on his chest as he bent to kiss her. “ _After_ you wash and brush everything in your face and guzzle about a gallon of mouthwash.”

Finally Spike let out a laugh of his own. “Fair enough, love. Be right back.”

A minute later she heard the water turn on in the bathroom, and she laid there waiting for his return, planning a course she never expected to have to teach Mr. Sex God.

Women’s Anatomy and Reproductive Health 101.

Oh yeah. Her life was hot.


End file.
